


break the silence

by redrocketracer



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mentions of domestic violence, romcom-ish????, some agnst, the story where craig plays the cello
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrocketracer/pseuds/redrocketracer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig Tucker's biological father leaves Craig and Laura bruised, broken and quiet. The house used to be so loud, Laura playing her cello, Jose, Craig's father, singing. The walls decorated with paintings and art they all produced. But when he leaves he takes the music and screaming art work from them. It's eerie quiet. Laura gives up her art and music. Her childhood best friend, Thomas Tucker helps piece things back together, and soon after they're married and have Ruby. </p><p>In fifth grade Craig's fingers touch the surface of the string instrument poster in the orchestra's room. His index finger slides to the cello. His mouth is usually shut, the spacey kid of South Park who says little. But his music begins to speak for him.</p><p>In his senior year Kenny Mccormick, music lover and appreciator goes to a record store he hears is located in North Park. His eyes take in Craig, who works the cash register. Craig with his now metal free mouth. Craig with that tanned skin and those dark eyes. Craig with neat hat hair. Craig who uses Kenny's whole name, <i>Kenneth Mccormick</i>. Craig who is so well put together. </p><p>Kenny decides that he needs to tear those perfect, well constructed walls down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm aiming for this to have five chapters, and i intend to try to make them as long as i can. I intend to make this lighter than my other stories, though it does have some dark material. i hope you guys enjoy,

The elementary school doesn't require their kids to play an instrument until they're in fifth grade. Even then, it's only touching the surface. For a lot of students it's fleeting, as they can decide not to pick it up after they leave for middle school. Craig Tucker sits next to Clyde Donovan, eyes focused on his cellphone. It's a stuffy little room that you can find by the gym. Craig discovered that in the confines of the space the heat is turned up high. It's sticky hot and Craig's hair is glued to his sweaty forehead. His shoulder brushes against Clyde's every once and awhile and it's uncomfortable. They sit in silence, never the talkative bunch. Even so, everyone else chatters on, voices melting together.

 

“Quiet, quiet please. We'll have plenty of time to make noise, students.”

 

The chatter dies down and the teacher, Mrs. Gleason, turns her back to the rowdy crowd. She writes on the board.

 

_Welcome to Orchestra_

 

You have a choice between chorus, band and orchestra. At first Craig was leaning more towards chorus, but he knows everyone goes for it. It appears to be an easy out for a lot of his classmates. You didn't have to rent or buy an instrument, or learn the fingering and placements or notes. However, orchestra sounded safe and boring, a path less taken. Band might have been interesting. However, Craig remembers the rumble of a the drum, the screech of the wind instruments and the marching. So he decides against it.

 

Mrs. Gleason clears her throat. She asks someone to take a piece of paper and pass it down. She then closes the distance between herself and the podium placed in front of the class. She opens her mouth to speak.

 

“Welcome to Orchestra,” she starts. She takes her index finger and pushes her glasses closer to her face. Her red, fiery curls bounce as she talks and makes motions with her hands. She's very expressive with them, and the bangles she has on clank and jingle against each other.

 

“Today is simple. It's Monday and your first day of class. I'd really like you all to decide on what you'd like to play. You have a week to do research about what you are interested in. Touch the instruments in the room, look up recordings, decide.” She points to the instruments the school actually supplies. It's lacking, you have to rent or buy your own, but the school does have a few on hand.

 

When she's done explaining meet up times and the winter concert she smiles at everyone.

 

Mrs. Gleason steps off her podium and let's her students to their own devices. Craig looks down at the piece of paper that was passed around. The types of instruments available are listed on the sheet. The surface of Craig's thumb brushes over the introduction.

 

“I think I'm going to do woodwind.” Clyde says. Craig lets out a scoff. Dark brown eyes look at the paper before putting it down. Shoes push against the surface of the ground. Craig leaves Clyde in his seat. He closes the distance between himself and the poster of string instruments.

 

Some of them look really delicate. Like the harp, images of pure white and clouds play in Craig's mind. Somehow Craig doesn't think it will be used in the schools orchestra.

 

The viola and violin catch Craig's eye. However, his interest wavers when dark browns land on the cello.

  
Craig's finger tips meet the surface of the poster. He remembers the instrument in between his mothers legs. Laura's fingers pressed down on the strings, eyes focused on the notes in front of her as they move. With her other hand she holds a bow. It moves so freely in her grasp, gliding across the strings and producing noise. It's graceful, passionate. These wouldn't be the words that Craig would use to describe the memory. He's just not that intricate with articulating what he thinks. But he feels this in that moment.

 

Laura stopped playing the cello when Craig's biological father left. It leaves sick emotions inside of him. He can't comprehend why.

 

But he knows what he wants to play now.

 

He takes his seat back with Clyde. Clyde talks about the football game coming up on the TV. He's animated, nasal and excited. Craig feels internally unwell. His palms are sweaty and he grips onto the paper Mrs. Gleason passed out. He has to place it down and take off his hat, hair damp with sweat. He ignores Clyde and thinks of late nights when he'd listen to his mothers song.

 

He remembers how those late nights spent listening to the music his mom would produce turned into curses and swears. Craig remembers laying on his bed, gaze at the ceiling. He's unable to sleep. He hears ugly things, he hears things being broken, he hears it all. When his dad finally leaves his moms face is black and blue. Craig is bruising on his cheek from where his father hit him for being 'disobedient.' His mother cries into Craig's hair as they watch craig's father tear down the art hung on the walls, throwing their pottery into the wall, snapping Laura's bow. They're both quiet though. Craig feels little bubbles of bad feelings bursting inside of him. The door shuts, and it's calm.

 

The cello, the piano, the collection of music notes. Gone. The art work hanging up on the wall is torn down and shred to pieces. Everything is gone.

 

The sound of music is smothered and leaves an eerie quiet.

 

Craig misses the music.

 

*

 

Ruby and Craig were never close. She's 5 while Craig is 11. Laura was quick to remarry. She's different around Thomas. Quiet, reserved. There is still a fierce amount of passion and love for every thing and one in her life. She has a lot of love in her heart. Even towards the people who wronged her. They made her stronger, taught her, made her grow. When Jose, Craig's father left the picture it's a sleepy, quiet home. Laura slept too much, hid out in her room. The light bulbs went out, it was dark. Eventually her best friend since she was a kid stepped in and put the pieces back together. Thomas always loved Laura. Since they were kids, forever. But she always seemed to find love elsewhere. He steps into Laura's life and family and is by her side as she recovers. There is only so much he can do, but Thomas tries to fix everything with wet tape.

 

Ruby comes into the picture and her wails are unpleasant. She looks nothing like Craig. She's pale and red. Orange hair sticking up all over the place. Craig wants to hate her and does sometimes. She's a beginning and Craig is a reminder.

  
So they seldom talk or play, keeping a distance.

 

Dinner is finished and set out, they eat a few hours after Craig gets home. The family sit around the table, plain and boring. The only sound is the clinking of silverware, metal scraping against glass.

 

“We started fifth grade music class” Craig announces. Thomas looks up at him briefly, eyes darting to Laura. She finishes chewing the piece of meat in her mouth and swallows in before speaking.

 

“That's nice.” she says, simple. Laura places down the fork she was holding and reaches for the glass of iced tea. Craig continues on.

 

“I decided I want to play the cello.”

 

Thomas looks straight at Craig and then back to Laura. Laura's eyes are on him, studying him. Craig stares back, raising his middle finger up at her. She returns the gesture and she lets out a soft sigh. The air is a bit tense and it's uncomfortable.

 

'We'll rent you a cello next weekend. This class is only for a year?” a wave of relief crashes down on Craig and he nods.

 

“Yes.”

 

“OK.” the silence that falls is thick and awkward.

  
Craig goes back to school the next day. He sits in his fifth grade class and tries to pay attention to Mr. Garrison, who followed them to the next grade. Craig is kind of spacing out.

 

He's seated next to Jimmy and Tweek, both who were good friends, kind of. Jimmy is always around. They hang out with a few other boys in their class. A rumor started last year that Tweek and Craig were boyfriends. They both had denied it at first. And then tried to pose a fake breakup. It ended sour, and they 'got back together' until the summer fell. They broke it off, but they became good friends.

 

Eventually the lunch bell rings and the usual group sits at the same table. Craig doesn't like Cartman's gang all too much, but he tolerates them in school.

 

“Ah man I can't believe we have chorus! This is going to suck.” Stan says. He makes a face at the lunch in front of him and pushes it away. Craig keeps his gaze down on his cellphone. He's always on the damn thing. He's usually next to Kenny Mccormick at lunch who he swears reads whatever he has pulled up. Craig doesn't ever want to admit he reads Red Racer fanfiction. Thankfully, if Kenny knows he doesn't say anything.

 

“I take orchestra. I like it. Mrs Gleason is super hot.” Clyde speaks up. Craig picks at his food. Not vocalizing anything.

 

“I saw her! She's pretty hot for a day walker. Wish I had her as my teacher, damn.” Cartman says, crude. Kyle lets out a scoff next to him and Cartman throws him a nasty look.

 

“Don't laugh at me you dirty jew.” he says. Craig stands to throw his garbage away. He decides to leave the cafeteria after that, walking to the schools library.

 

Eventually Orchestra comes rolling around and Mrs Gleason sits at her desk. She has thick reading glasses that magnify her eyes. Clyde chatters on about something that Craig really doesn't care for, thoughts somewhere else. Craig eyeballs his teacher every once and awhile, and eventually he stands and goes over to her desk.

 

He shoves his sweaty hands in his pockets and opens his mouth before closing it. He opens up again.

 

“I decided on my instrument.” Craig announces. Mrs. Gleason looks at him from over her glasses before pulling them off. She folds them up and put it in her breast pocket.

 

“Good! What would that be, Mr. Tucker?” She's so inviting and friendly and it makes Craig feel more at ease. He wonders how she memorized his name so quickly.

 

“The cello.”

 

There is a pause and Mrs. Gleason looks at him curiously. Craig feels uncomfortable by it and gingerly kicks the ground. She eventually shakes her head and a smile returns on her face.

 

“I guess Laura's talents passed on to you. I'm looking forward to our lessons. We already have two other cellist, Heidi Turner and Bradley Biggle. You guys will be taking private group lessons with me every Tuesday. When it's close to the concert you'll practice with the rest of your peers. You'll have to practice at home too. Do you have your own instrument?” she questions.

 

“No. We're renting a cello.” she nods her head and rolls backwards in her chair. There is some rustling of papers as she looks in one of the draws on her desk. Eventually she makes an 'ah ha!' noise and she places a packet of sheet note in front of Craig. Craig picks it up, looking down at the first thing on the page.

 

It's named 'Traffic Jam'. From the looks of it Mrs Gleason already highlighted the parts the cellist will play. He knows nothing about the notes and symbols. It makes him a bit nervous. And as if she read Craig's emotions the teacher opens her mouth.

 

“We'll go over notes and everything in class.” he looks back at her and then back at the papers.

 

“Thank you.” he says as he goes to take his seat next to Clyde again.

 

They pick up the cello for him the next monday, while he's at school. Craig lets his backpack fall to the ground as he enters his house, kicking off his shoes. He goes to his room and there it is, in it's bag. He gingerly unzips the instrument and exposes it. His fingers brush over the surface of the scroll, he plucks one of the strings.

 

His first lesson is tomorrow. He doesn't know how to play the instrument in the slightest, but he's excited to learn.

 

Craig goes to sleep late into the night, thoughts jumping around in his mind. When he wakes he puts his arms through the straps of his cello bag. Thomas holds his backpack for him and walks him into the school. They drop off the cello to the music room and Craig takes his bag with school work in it.

 

He goes to class and the day continues on. By the time his lessons comes up he's late to class. Cartman and his gang were trying to get people involved in their shenanigans again and caused a crowd in the hallway. Craig has to push his way past people to get to his destination. When he arrives Mrs. Gleason has written notes on the board. He takes a seat in the front, where the other three Cello players sit. She told them that the cellist were broken up into two classes.

  
Craig rubs the little block of rosin across his bow, like he read online. He tries to position his cello the way he used to see his mom do it.

 

Mrs. Gleason turns back around to face her musicians and she starts talking. She explains where the notes are on the cello and goes over fingering. Craig doesn't really get it and it's a bit discouraging. He listens, though.

 

 

The lessons continue on like that. Mrs. Gleason telling them the secrets and intricacies of the cello. They pluck at the strings and gently run the bow across them to hear what sound they produce. Craig tries his hardest to keep up, but he doesn't practice at home.

  
The quiet is so, so uneasy. Craig feels uncomfortable breaking it. He'll sit on his bed and eye ball the instrument.

 

“You need to practice more, Craig.” Mrs Gleason says to him in class. Heidi Turner lets out a scoff at that. She thought she was so good, and she often got praise for doing so well.

 

It continues on like that, Craig's music lacking, slow paced, trying too hard.

 

“Eventually it'll come naturally.” Mrs. Gleason says. It's the beginning of November and the winter contest is dangerously close. And she announces it.

 

“Craig, please stay behind to talk to me.” and he does. When the last person is out the door Craig remains where he is seated. It's so hot in this room, he always looks to gross afterwards.

 

Mrs. Gleason takes a seat next to Craig. She holds a Styrofoam cup in her hands, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip.

 

“Why aren't you practicing? You're good, Craig. But you have to practice.” she looks at him and his eyes are downcast at his lap. He feels guilty and wishes he could explain, but Craig doesn't know what he is even thinking. Why it's so hard to break the silence of the house.

 

“Playing an instrument is like having one, true, great love.” Craig looks up at her, big brown eyes focused on her countenance.

 

“They start off foreign to you, and your first conversations are going to be awkward and strained. But then there is a connection, and you're laughing and talking and producing noise from them. Sometimes you won't see eye to eye, sometimes you'll make mistakes. But you keep trying, work it out. You'll speak freely with them anywhere. And you're not going to care who sees or hears, because you love them. That is the love of your life.”

 

Craig looks down at the bow in his hands.

 

He leaves the room feeling light and easy. When he gets home it is silent. Thomas is sleeping on the recliner, Ruby is in her room, and Laura is cooking dinner.

 

Craig does the daring and takes his notes out, setting up his stand. And places his fingers where they are supposed to meet up. He knows the notes, but he always puts so much pressure on himself and messes up.

 

But he takes a deep breath, and tries to just feel the music.

 

He does this everyday after school for about three hours. He misses Red Racer, he ignores invitations from Clyde, Token, Jimmy, Tweek and Token to hang out. Mrs. Gleason sees the difference and places him in second chair next to Heidi. Craig feels a bit bitter and being in that placement, but he accepts it. Keeps trying and trying.

 

Eventually the night of the concert rolls around and Craig peaks his head out to look at the crowd. He sees his mother and father with Ruby in the front row. He feels pleased knowing they are there.

 

He is clad in a white dress shirt with black slacks. Looking rather fresh. He goes back to his seat and Heidi sits next to him in a white dress. She looks Craig up and down, and Craig is expecting something rude. However, Heidi sticks her hand out to him.

 

“You're an excellent rival. My dad is taking me to Friendlies afterwards. Would you like to come?” she has such a princess voice and Craig almost says no in a dry tone. But instead takes her hand and shakes it, complying.

 

“Sure.”

 

The band has already went and the Chorus sung the introduction. It's their time, the lights brighten and the music begins. The audience is quiet and instantly become sucked in. At their cue they glide their bows across the string. They're on their second song, Craig's eyes downcast and consumed in music when the sprinkler system goes off. The sound of the schools fire alarm rings throughout the entire building and everyone rushes the get out.

  
Dark browns look up to the crowd and sees that his family has already left. He feels a horrible, horrible sinking feeling. Like he can melt into the ground.

 

Craig tries to shove his sheet notes in his pockets, trying to keep them dry. But they become damp and the ink bleeds, ruining it.

 

He can hear Stan and Kyle voice. He can hear the spiel of 'I learned something today' he hears it all coming. He also hears his heart pounding in his ears. He feels the mushy papers in his hands, he feels his face heat up in frustration.

 

When he gets home he slams his door shut behind him. He dries off his instrument as best as he can. And he plays.

 

He plays and plays until his fingers are sore. He plays until the his parents knock on his door, begging him to stop. He plays and plays all night.

 

He falls asleep sometime early in the morning. When he wakes up, he feels physically drained. He stares out the window, at he blues, oranges and purples making the sky.

 

At breakfast he tells his family he wants to continue playing the cello.

  
And he does.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Park County Middle School is a mixture of South Park and North Park. Kenny Mccormick exits the fifth grade without much thought into it or a glance back. Everything kind of gets bigger: his surroundings, his classes, the social groups. Even Kenny's body betrays him, and he notices he can't fit into his old parka. He had it for quite awhile, and his family somehow pulls together enough money to buy a new one. It's a rarity that he Mccormick kids get new things. So when it comes to clothes, they're always a few sizes too big.

 

“You'll grow into them” His dad says.

 

Kenny drowns in orange fabric.

 

For such an easy, bright color to pluck out of the variety of colors, Kenny seems to blend in. He's another face in the crowded halls of the Park County District.

 

Kenny played the drums in fifth grade band. He played the drums and dropped them after an adventure where he got stabbed with a drumstick during the winter concert. He wasn't a music kid. He wasn't an artsy kid or a really brainy one. He was average, he's smudged in with everyone else, quiet and observant.

 

He notices how everyone seems to kind of fade together. Kyle is on the middle school debate team while Stan joins be a better neighbor. Cartman is bitter about being kicked out of the debate team, and tries to make Kyle's life a living hell. They all hang out but Kenny notices how more and more he falls into the shadows and how he spends less and less time with all of them.

 

He sits at home now, more often. His gaze usually focused on the tv.

 

Kevin gives him a cd player, his old one. Kenny looks at it and scoffs because everyone has much cooler gadgets at his school. But he can't afford an ipod or anything cool. So he goes with it. He trudges through the snow, feet crunching powder white, freshly fallen snow beneath his feet. Kenny pulls open the libraries door and steps into the warmth that hits him in his cold, red face.

 

He goes to the CD section and looks through them. The collection is quite big for such a small town, but Kenny can't complain. The first album is by a band called Black Flag, and he looks at the cover. He's heard of it before, his brother has their logo hanging up in his room. The albums name is 'Damaged'. He runs his finger tips across the top of the CDs under Black Flag and decides he'll start there.

 

From then on, it becomes a challenge. It starts with Black Flag, he enjoys it so much. He doesn't really understand what the lyrics mean, they're simple and loud and angry. Kenny remembers his teachers saying that music usually has meaning. Does it count for the blunt lyrics of this band? Kenny tries to decipher it. He doesn't know, but he finishes up the last CD that he picked out for the band, leg bouncing up and down as he listens to it at lunch. Everyone is talking and busy in his group but Kenny kind of falls into his thoughts and the music.

 

He continues on doing this, listening to countless different artist on his cd player, trying to decode it. By the the time 8th grade rolls around he's so detached from his friends and into his music that he stops talking to them all together. When things get rough at home, as they do in the Mccormick household, he plugs his headphones in and lays on his bed. His heart pounds in his chest and Kenny feels like he's looking at himself from outside of his body, staring down at his body from the ceiling.

 

The world around him is so, so, so noisy and he drowns it out by listening to Black Flag, The Ramones, The Clash, The Sex Pistols. He discovers so many different bands and genres. He listens to some band called Neutral Milk Hotel and finds it weird and strange but it grows on him. He listens to rappers like Tupac and Biggie and Chance the Rapper and Earl Sweatshirt. He listens to sugary pop girls like Vanessa Carlton and Taylor Swift. He'll listen to gospel, to r and b, to folk punk. He listens to it all, and when he gets into ninth grade and has access to the computers in the school library he begins looking up the morals and values and significance of the music.

 

It all starts to make sense to him. Kenny had challenged himself with interpretations of what he thought the lyrics meant. But he gets some kind of validation by reading into the known history of the artists.

 

 

His leg is bouncing up and down one day on a field trip to Denver. Kenny's seated next to Kyle, the two seldom talk, or at least Kenny doesn't. But Kyle still will talk and rants and vent next to him on the bus ride to and from school. Kenny is looking out the window, watching the trees and land pass. Colorado is gorgeous, towering mountains, lakes, trees and forest. Kenny feels the desire to just leave South Park behind, to see what the worlds got to offer.

 

Kenny's so consumed with this thought, that when Kyle taps his shoulder rather roughly he jumps, startled.

 

“Uh.” he starts, pushing the headphones he has to lay on his shoulders.

 

“What?” he asks, Kyle's eyebrows are furrowed and he lets out a sigh.

 

“You're always in la la land, Kenny.” Kyle says, he looks at Kenny's bag, littered with logos from bands that he likes. Kevin bought him some of the patches and sewed them onto a bag for him, with the aid of Karen.

 

“You don't even talk to anyone but the girls you're fucking.” and Kyle is right. Kenny has always liked pretty girls and music. He finds that girls like him too. He's extremely handsome, with dimples and freckled checks, he's tall, taller than everyone in his grade. His hair is messy, short and sticks up all over the place. He's thin, extremely so.

 

“Ah man, you jealous Kyle?” Kenny grins, he pushes Kyle's shoulder and Kyle scoffs at him, rolling his eyes.

 

“No, it's just. We've been friends since we were in preschool. It's weird that I hardly know you now.” Kenny looks down at Kyle's hands, pale and bare.

 

“Aw, don't get all dramatic.” Kenny starts, he lets out a yawn.

 

“But I will put in an effort to be a better friend.” he says, sarcastic and friendly.

  
And he does. He and Kyle go to Stan's shed where he plays his guitar, they hang out with a few girls every once and awhile, double dates. In Junior year when Stan starts up a band, the two of them go to his shows. They're loud and obnoxious and crazy. Stan plays guitar, and the music his band plays is pop punky, with a bit of a folk influence.

 

“I told you I love you, just outside your moms place...” Stan sings. The crowd joins in. it's one of their more popular songs.

 

When the night is Kenny and Kyle sneak through the back door of the Mccormick household, smelling of weed and liquor. It's quiet, and they go into his bedroom, plopping onto the mattress on his floor. It's hot and sweaty and they pass out for the night. Waking up with a hang over and good memories, pictures on facebook.

 

The madness dies down when the band disbands in the summer before senior year. Kyle tries to finish all his summer assignments, looking into schools and writing his college essay. They all had a head start in their junior year, but Kyle is really the one going all out. Stan is passed out most days, drained from all the partying. Cartman tries to bring the band back together, to no avail.

 

Kenny starts his senior year not looking forward to the next steps he'd have to make. He remembers wanting to see the world, but with what money? Should he go to college? Should he go to the community college? Should he get a job? He already works at the super market, but it pays minimal.

 

He doesn't know. His grades are average but Kenny is lazy and they lack a certain sparkle.

 

The thing is, he just doesn't really _know_ yet.

 

But what he does know is that Kyle is running out of his front door, looking way too small in his big, orange and green jacket. He squeezes into Kenny's truck next to Stan, who is in the middle. Cartman drives his own van, a beaten down wreck, rusted and gross. It's his, though. They used to use it for their band.

 

“Fuck I got Pearson for homeroom.” Stan says as he tampers with Kenny's radio. It's always static-y and the stations never come in too clear. But Stan, without a doubt messes around with it. Kenny keeps his eye on the road.

 

“I hate Pearson. She tells you these stories that just make you want to fall asleep in class. If you do, she gives you detention. She's so loose handed with it, man. She flicks her wrists and you're in detention.” Kyle states. Stan lets out a defeated sigh.

 

“One year left.” he says, he stretches his arm around Kenny and Kyle.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They go throughout the day tired and sleepy. Kenny sits in his study hall with his head phones in his ears. He's listening to the 'Rose' EP by the front bottoms. They're a pop punk band that he is obsessed with. He has to return this CD soon, though, like later that night.

 

Kenny is doodling in his notebook when he feels something hit the back of his head. He pulls his headphones down to dangle around his neck. Red is seated behind him and she'd clad in a purple dress. It's tight around the breast, a blue belt in the center. It flows out at the bottom. Crimson hair tied back in a bun.

 

“Hey loser, what's up?” she questions, looking over Kenny's shoulder at his doodles. When she catches an ugly etching of a cat she rolls her eyes.

 

“Lame. What are you listening to?” Kenny sighs, missing the sound of his music.

 

“The Front Bottoms.” Red lets out a laugh at him.

 

“Uhg, aw man, really? Brian Sella is so whiney. Such a whiney white boy.” She picks at him, Kenny shakes his head.

 

“Strong words coming from a tiny little white girl who fucks anyone in the back of their car.” Kenny replies, referring to when Red got caught in the do with a guy in the community college. Rumors were spread and the story got a bit jumbled and added a million other people. Kenny knows it's not true or cool to shame Red, but in that moment he's annoyed and wants to listen to his music.

 

Red's face turns pink, she hates talking about it. It was a low blow for Kenny to make, but she lets it go.

 

“Shut the fuck up. Did you hear about the music store in North Park? My cousin works there.” Kenny shakes his head again in response.

 

“No, i'll have to check it out.” he explains. He tries to sound disinterested but he isn't. Kenny has a few CDs he bought over the years but there wasn't anywhere he could really buy them from in town. He didn't want to drive three towns over to buy CDs from walmart. And Walmart didn't have everything he wanted.

 

When he gets to the parking lot after school his thumb runs over the glossy surface of the cover of the album case. He doesn't have to take Kyle or Stan home that night as they are both busy doing their own things. Kenny places the CD down on his seat and starts up his car, driving towards the library. He drops of fthe album he took out and heads in the direction of North Park.

 

The ride is quiet and Kenny pays attention to as much detail he can on the road before him. North Park and South Park aren't far separated from each other. So the drive goes fairly quick. When Kenny gets passed the sign that reads 'welcome to North Park' he slows down a bit, looking at his surroundings. He doesn't know North Park all too well, only occasionally coming around there for Stan's gigs and parties.

 

Eventually he locates the store, it's in the heart of the town. There is a tiny parking lot next to it, a small, mom and pop place. Kenny parks, taking his keys out and locking his doors.

 

Feet hit the pavement as he shoves the key in his pocket. It's warmer here in North Park than it is in South Park, and Kenny finds it a bit strange since the two towns aren't too far. Kenny closes the distance between his car and the opening of the store. Sun beaming down on him, heating him up.

 

A little bell jingles as the door closes behind Kenny. The store is quiet besides the sound of some indie sounding band playing from the speakers. Kenny's eyes take in the display in front of the store. A huge sign reading 'employees choice'. He looks at the CDs put up and they mostly consist of some classical music composers work. Kenny hasn't really ever dived into the world of classical music. It's just not his thing. He tries to listen to Bach or Mozart or Beethoven, Chopin or Liszt. He doesn't know where it stops or ends and Kenny's always so bored by it. That sounds weird and out of character considering Kenny loves music. But it just doesn't tickle him.

 

So he passes it up, looking around, he's got quite a lot of rap and r and b in his collection at home. A few jazz CDS, a bit of pop. But Kenny's lacking his rock music, he seeks out the rock section and plucks out a few albums he likes. The CDs on sale are all fairly cheap, so he just puts them in a little basket he found.

  
When he's satisfied and done, basket filled to the brim with albums, Kenny looks around for the cash register. He locates it, and he takes in a hooded figure, slouched over, looking at white sheet held firmly in tanned hands. Kenny makes his way over and places the basket on the counter. The cashier looks up through the notes and Kenny takes in dark eyes. Familiar, it dawns on him that he knows those eyes. Though he hasn't made contact with them in quite a long time.

 

The hood falls back and neat, kept dark hair is revealed. It curls around and frames smooth, tanned skin. Craig Tucker sits up from how he was slouched over his notes, and his posture is perfect. He places the notes down, and opens his mouth.

 

“Are you ready?” Craig questions in nasal, monotone. Kenny looks him over, actually looks him over. It's been so long since the two of them talked. Kenny remembers when they were in middle school and he'd briefly hear Craig's name as the butt of someones joke.

 

He was the one with the bushy eyebrows and the bad teeth. Braces and hat hair, an attitude of _I don't care about you, go fuck yourself_. Kenny remembers people cracking jokes about how he'd probably be so boring in bed, how he probably is a virgin for life.

 

“Yeah.” Kenny pushes the basket closer and starts unloading. His eyes stay on the other male. Craig looks down at his hands as he scans and bags. Mouth pressed firmly together. He's quiet and reserved, Kenny's never once heard a rumor about Craig's sex life. Never once heard of him having a girl friend. Or boyfriend? Craig looks so wrapped in his self. Kenny watches his movements.

 

“It's been awhile Craig, how are you?” Kenny questions. Craig's looks at him, big brown eyes staring into blues. Kenny gulps because oh wow, fuck, those eyes. Something about those eyes.

 

“I'm fine, Kenneth Mccormick.” it sounds weird coming from Craig. Kenny's known him so goddamn long, it's so formal.

 

The last CD is put in the plastic bag that Craig as been filling. He places the bag on the counter.

 

'That will be 30 dollars.” Craig says, nasal. Kenny eyes take in Craig. Craig with his now metal free mouth. Craig with that tanned skin and those dark eyes. Craig with neat hat hair. Craig who uses Kenny's whole name,  _Kenneth Mccormick_. Craig who is so well put together.

 

Maybe it's curiosity, maybe it's some kind of magnetic pull. But Kenny decides that he needs to tear those perfect, well constructed walls down.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Kenny asks as he pays Craig with cash. Craig counts off the money, he hands Kenny a few dollars in the exchange.

 

“I'm busy.” Craig replies. He sits back down I the chair behind the counter, picking up the papers.

 

“With what? What could possibly be so important? We have off tomorrow, it's friday.” Kenny pries, light and joking. Craig's eyes flick up to him again, and Kenny holds back anything he wants to say, waiting for a response.'

 

He doesn't get one, instead, Craig nods his head towards the door.

 

“I have another customer, Kenneth Mccormick.” he says. He's odd. But he's right, Kenny turns around and there is someone standing behind him.

 

He steps away, taking one last glance back before stepping towards the entrance of the store. Kenny steps out with his hand gripping onto the handle of his plastic bag. He makes his way to his car and places the bag down. The car rumbles to life and Kenny turns it on. He drives towards home.

 

*

 

They're seated in Stan's shed. Stan is plucking at his guitar. It's quiet minus that, just him humming something under his breathe. Cartman in all his fat glory takes up most of the couch. His gaze is on his cellphone, probably looking at local bands. He's been ranting and raving about how 'The Love Cats” stole all their local glory. Stan remains quiet about it most of the time.

 

“Hey guys?” Kenny asks, he sits on the floor, rolling a blunt. Kyle sits next to him, quiet.

 

“What, Kenneh?” Cartman drawls, he doesn't look up from his cell phone, though. Stan just continues messing with his guitar.

 

“Have any of you guys talked to Craig since middle school?” Stan's strumming comes to a pause. He looks down at Kenny seated on the floor. It's quiet.

 

“Uh, he's in some of my classes.” Kyle states.

 

“He's an orchestra queer. Plays the cello. Only hangs around his usual groups, but mostly Heidi Turner.” Cartman says, harsh. Kenny flicnhes at the slur, but knows it's futile to argue Cartman.

 

“Orchestra?” Kenny tries to imagine the I don't give a fuck Craig from elementary school playing he instrument. It's unfitting but...fitting, all the same. Kenny taps his foot.

 

“Why's do you ask, Kenny?” Kyle asks. Kenny stares at his green eyes and wonders if Kyle thought of him as be sleazy or horrible for the way he treats his partners. He wonders if he told Kyle his intentions if he'd be disappointed.

 

“No reason,” Kenny says, simple. The night continues on. 

 


End file.
